Nobody Can Force the King
by Jallerian
Summary: A seventh origin that never made the game is encapsulated in this story that follows Zachary Lawson, the child of Aleks and Elena. We start with Zachary's origin story, and eventually, his path as a Warden with Alistair. The beginning chapters are labelled with Origin to show pre-Ostagar. [Alistair and Zachary Pairing]
1. Chapter 1: The Secret - Origin

A/N: The earlier chapters have - Origin at the end of titles to refer to the AU/OC aspects. Characters will join, and the story will speed up. For future reference, this story will eventually focus on Alistair and Zachary, a human commoner.

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Zachary marvelled at the haste of his parents while packing their belongings. The strength of his father's arms, the swiftness of his mother's movement, and the repeated tidiness of their assets during every move had never failed to astonish the green-eyed son. The Lawson family had often had to migrate, most likely due to what they did for a living. The business that they ran isn't exactly honourable. His parents, happily together for 30 years, scavenged and looted any unfortunate souls in the wilds and abandoned roads and hoped to sell them elsewhere in Fereldan. They often had regulars that they would go to, and at other times, their regulars found them. How and why they started this business was still a mystery to Zachary—he had never known of any other life and thus never questioned his current one. An outsider would pity the family's way of living, but the three of them, well, once _four_ of them, lived comfortably enough.

"Let's go, Zack," his mother, Elena, reminded the young man, "We're off to Ostagar." The family had heard from their regulars that the blight was beginning to spread from the wilds. They had been lucky not to encounter any so far, and they weren't looking forward to do so. Moreover, Ostagar was a good place for business—news spread that King Cailan was defending against the darkspawn there. Wouldn't they like some gear?

Zachary reminisced about the easier and younger times. His father, Aleks, had always splurged him with stories of the mighty Grey Wardens. He told him of their feats with the defeats of many Blights, the darkspawn, and the Archdemons. Zachary learned that the year he was born was the same year King Maric allowed the Wardens back into Ferelden. He'd always felt that he had some special connection with the Grey Wardens, some grandiose life that awaits him, perhaps away from all this. A young man can dream, can he not?

During the younger years of Zachary, Aleks had always kept him safe. The family had often collided with other opportunists and thieves, rival merchants, occasional guards, and occasional stragglers. Had it not been for the patriarch, the family wouldn't have had survived for so many years. Zachary recalls that once, during a midnight robbery, a group of cunning rogues attacked their camp. Nearing the end of a Grey Warden tale, the quiet hours to which the family grew accustomed were interrupted by soft clicks that night—the sound of locks. Zachary remembered clearly the absence of birds and owls that night. The smell of the grass during springtime was strong to the senses. Aleks, adept in detecting stealth, easily dispatched several thieves with his swords training. The man depended on his platinum-plated two-handed great sword to protect his family, and to this day, he carries this family treasure to sleep. His taunts and timely stonewall talents protected himself from backstab attacks. Elena and Zachary, left behind in the tent, unfortunately, were also faced with these opportunist rogues. The soft moonlight revealed them, as their shadows were cast against the tent. Perhaps Zachary was too young then; his memory didn't serve him well. He briefly recalled feeling tired and hearing screams of horror. His parents told him that he was probably too scared and conjured some false memories. Nonetheless, Zachary always felt safe with his father.

After that incident, however, Aleks was unsatisfied with how easy their lives could perish with this nomadic life. He decided to train the young Lawson in physical fighting. Although a warrior himself, Aleks had learned bits and pieces of other talents throughout the years, including dual weaponry, weapon and shield, and archery. Having no mages in his lineage, he wasn't able to teach Zachary any spells. Perhaps the young Lawson wasn't destined to physically fight. Although his favorite, he was only mediocre at best handling a sword and a shield. With his smaller frame and slightly toned muscles, Zachary was slightly clumsy with his smaller sword and shield. He tended to focus on parrying attacks rather than finding an opportunity to strike. Still, he had not had to fight much; only once or twice after that incident did he ever had to arm himself to defend his family.

"Yes, mother," Zachary had replied, while brushing against his short, brown hair. He sheathed his sword, wore the scabbard on his dark brown, leather sword belt, and harnessed his sturdy metal shield to his back. He opted to wear a light, leather armor rather than his father's heavier, veridium armor—A personal choice to favor lower fatigue over armor. Especially since the trip from the southwestern end of the Korcari Wilds to Ostagar was going to be a long one, it seemed suitable for the young warrior to choose the lighter armor.

The trip was going to take at least a week. With the wilds being abandoned due to the recent appearance of darkspawn, they had not seen another human soul in the forest for the first half of the trip. The wilds seemed to look sicker every passing day; the leaves seemed to darken, the sun seemed to be clouded by mist, and the flowers seemed never to blossom. Perhaps, Zachary thought, the darkspawn's highly feared taint was destroying the wilds.

Aleks keenly observed his family's surroundings for any danger. His constant alertness resulted in both his mental and physical exhaustion at night. Even the laughter that resulted from Elena and Zachary did not seem to wake the father up during these nights. Aleks took note of the flora and fauna; the wilderness entailed a variety of beasts, large and small, malicious and benign. The plants and trees seem unlively, the dark green and black leaves with little variety. He was, however, surprised when he took sight on a particular Wilds flower, the red-centered, white-petal flower. The gloomy surroundings made this bloom of a plant more captivating. The family patriarch covertly plucked one for a future surprise for his beloved Elena.

Once in a while, Aleks would take arms and fend off wolves and bears that seem to thwart his family's journey. He noted that during several of his shorter battles with these wilderbeasts, an obscure spider would watch the fight, hiding from the Lawsons. The spider had always disappeared before the battle ends, however, and it never interfered with the brawl. At first, Aleks wasn't sure if there were simply spiders lurking the forests at all times. However, he noticed that this particular one had amber eyes. The soft stares from this spider gave it a more human appearance, strangely, and Aleks had a feeling of familiarity with this creature.

The black spider watched the family curiously as the humans traversed the woods. It had known the Lawsons for a long time, whether they were aware of it or not. In fact, the creature had an encounter with one of the Lawson heirs, and this perhaps, regrettably, had led to the separation of the heir from his family. The spider's sly movements have kept it hidden from the family for many years. The realization that the family was headed towards Ostagar provoked the spider to look out for the family, to keep a promise. Perhaps the spider would finally be relieved of this task of keeping the family safe, perhaps the spider would finally enjoy the wilds without humans influence, or perhaps the spider would now venture off to wherever it liked.

The spider had kept its eyes on the young Lawson, watching his uncoordinated movements as he defended his mother against the looming darkspawn. The creature could tell that the young man was horrified, as he glared at the ruthless monstrosities. The hurlock swung its two-handed mace against the young man, destabilizing the determined soul. The darkspawn's warcry stunned the nearby Lawson and the defenseless boy was easily swept off his feet. As the spider was about to intrude and halt the imminent death of its protectee, it felt a strange aura that slowed the movement of the darkspawn. In fact, the Lawson recovered rather quickly, held up his shield, and bashed the hurlock. He gripped his sword fiercely and pierced the armor of the intruder. A horrible scream was let out as the hurlock struggled and eventually still on the ground, lifeless.

The aura wavered eventually, and the rest of the darkspawn had fled. "Father!" Zachary cried as he neared Aleks. The wound on the mature Lawson was deep with the arrow entering from the back. The crimson blood crept out of the wound slowly, the speed limited by the intruding arrow. Elena checked on her lovers breathing and his heart, making sure the vitals are still in check. Careful not to move the arrowhead, she snapped the tail end of the arrow to prevent unnecessary clutter. Elena ordered her son to grab some poultices from their gear, and to set up camp for his father could definitely use some rest.

The young man went to where they left their gear and began nervously scavenging for any healing items. He noticed a vial of blue liquid, stashed and wrapped up in his mother's belongings. He had never seen his family use this blue liquid before for injuries. An uncertain curiosity began to brew in the young Lawson. Almost immediately after, he remembered the direness of the situation and brought the poultices to his family. Surprisingly, in this short duration, the arrow had already been removed, the wounds cleaned, and the father had gone into a deep slumber.

Zachary, in disbelief at how his mother alone could tend to his father without healing items, began to set up the tent to prepare for nightfall. The family, under the pale moon, near a glimmering lake, took their much needed rest as the spider who watched the events unfold, knowingly head back to its home.

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Please review. Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2: The Loss - Origin

A/N: Thanks for continuing with the story.

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_Zachary swung his sword and parried the flurry of arrows from the hurlock archers afar, his shield blocking its fair share of projectiles. He could barely make out the form of his brother at that distance; he seemed to be tied against a large Oak tree, behind the countless darkspawns between them. Zachary didn't know what he could do to save his brother. It seemed hopeless with the sea of taint in front of him. He shut his eyes tightly and hoped for a miracle to occur. He thought of the horror his brother must have faced, the pain, the anguish, and the agony. He opened his eyes and glazed across the battlefield. He noticed many fallen darkspawn and countless other ones screaming in torment, as if in a waking nightmare._

"_How did I do it?" Zachary wondered to himself. He felt a lurking presence behind him, a strange, hollow warmth. He turned around, only to face a devilish appearance. A temptress, almost fully naked, asked the Lawson, "So, what do you think?" She did so in the most seductive of all manners, stroking her large bosom while giving a slow wink. "Would you like your brother back?" She continued. _

_Zachary wasn't sure who or what he was speaking to, but he loved his brother. As he began to weigh his options, a large bolt of lightning came down to his left. A menacing, rumbling thunder came soon after. He could smell burning grass, and his train of thought was immediately lost._

"Wake up!" Elena alarmed her child, giving him a slight push. Zachary's mother alerted him of the large Oak tree that caught on fire from the lightning storm earlier. Although the rain that followed put it out, the sound, the uninvited light, and the burning wood brought out and attracted a plethora of beasts. They decided to keep moving, despite the Moon still shining at their zenith, despite the clouds still trying to flood the lands with its cleansing tears, and despite the three of them being _extremely_ exhausted.

The young Lawson was still trembling from his dream. "What was that creature that was speaking to me? Was it simply a nightmare?" These thoughts continued to rummage through the Adonis's head. In fact, he had had similar nightmares before, never with darkspawn, however. Ever since the disappearance of his brother, he had periodically dreamt of reuniting with him, but something was always stopping him from doing so. _Perhaps it was too good to be true._ He had wanted to ask his mother about his dreams, but wouldn't know how to start. He didn't want to remind the family of the pain of losing a family member. How would he explain his thoughts during his dreams leading up to the temptress? Despite all of this, Zachary had decided to file those thoughts away. He continued to pack, making sure he did his father's part too.

It was remarkable to both gentlemen how quickly Aleks had seemingly recovered. The arrow wound left no scar and the pain was surprisingly only dull. Aleks had always known that Elena had a knack for taking care of war wounds and treating ill patients; she was trained in herbalism and the application of healing salves, balms, and poultices ever since she knew how to read. However, this was something else. Aleks thought he would surely have died without Elena. Still, once in a while, he had felt some uneasiness within him. _How is there no scarring and no visible wound remaining after a day? Why do I feel a sense of terror?_ Anxiety brew within the veteran as these thoughts swarmed his brain.

The group of three had walked for hours withstanding the torrential downpour, continuing their trek northeastwards to Ostagar. "Are you alright, my love?" Zachary overheard his mother soothing her trembling husband with caring words. Perhaps it was the chilling rain, the ravenous wilderness, and the roaring skies that made it uneasy for Aleks to continue. He collapsed onto the icy, wet mud, unable to hold his own weight. For that moment, Aleks had only felt his own heat radiating into the frigid air. His heart slowed to an irregular pattern and a sense of despair overwhelmed him.

Elena bent over his beloved and caressed his pale face. She looked at him, disheartened, and then at his eyes. A milky cloud seemed to obstruct the cerulean eyes that the man had once charmed her with. She knew what this was. The certainty of losing her man to the taint gave her shivers—all she wanted to do was to scream. She knew that not even her abilities would be able to save him, and that the man would be on his way to the Maker. "Zack, my baby," Elena started, "I'm terribly sorry, but," her voice breaking, and she paused. She had no longer the ability to continue conveying the news of their imminent lost. She simply sat on the ground, weeping over their misfortune.

Zachary walked over to her mother and wrapped his arm around the crying woman, holding her close to him. "I don't understand," he began, "I thought he was fine. What happened?" The soon-to-be widow provided no answer. In fact, the only noises for a next while came from the booming thunder and the howling wolves.

The two of them sat there until the grey clouds cleared, until the drizzling halted, and until the crackling sky died to a whimper. Elena had heard stories of the tainted becoming flesh-eating ghouls and of kidnapped women becoming broodmothers. "We must kill your father," She mumbled. She had thought about the gentlest way of breaking this to her son. She knew it had to be done. She can't let him become a ghoul—he would want this. She regretted having sheltered his child to all the nastiness of the world. She regretted only telling him stories of the mighty Grey Wardens, yet leaving out the abhorrent fate. She regretted not telling him everything she knew about… herself. She took the sharpest blade in their collection and placed it above the armor of the still man. "If we don't do this, he will become one of them." She mentioned to the questioning look. "The corruption," she paused, "is a slow death." A delayed nod came from Zachary.

His brother often left the family during his younger years and came back at times. He would tell him stories of the world outside of this life—of the elves, of the dwarves, of the cities. Zachary always treated them as such, as stories, but nothing more. He remembered vividly his brother telling him about the taint, about how the taint caused one of his companions to lose his mind. He mentioned the screams at night, the visions of a dragon, and the callings of some evil. Perhaps it was true, perhaps they weren't just stories. He looked over to where his father was. He lay lifelessly on the ground, a blade through his chest. His mother, who had been sobbing at her husband's side, now stood up and faced northeast. She was determined to keep moving, "We have to go to Ostagar. We have to avenge your dad."

Although Zachary had always dreamed of a life with a different purpose, he had never imagined it to begin like this. "Fight the darkspawn, you mean?" The young Lawson inquired.

His mother never shifting the direction of her gaze, "That's right, Zack." Zachary was uncertain about this. He questioned his own ability to fight, his clumsy handling of a sword and shield, and even his mother. _How is she going to fight?_

"Mother," Zachary began. Elena knew what her son was going to ask. She knew she had never shown him her secret. She knew it was about time.

"Before we go though, Zack, let me tell you something." The mother said, receiving a nod from her son. "When I was only a young child, I was taken away from my family. I grew up in a place called the Circle. It was a horrifying place, set up by the Chantry Templars to control mages all over Ferelden. I escaped the Circle eventually, but" She continued, but noticed the confused look on Zachary's face. She realized that all these terms meant nothing to him. "Let me start over, Zack."

As Elena described her childhood, what the Circle was and who mages and Templars were, Zachary listened attentively. He began to wonder about the sudden disappearance of his brother, the night of the thieves, the crazy dreams he had, the fight with the darkspawn, and the odd recovery of his dad.

His attention shifted back to his mother when she said, "Zack, I think you're a mage as well."

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Thank you for reading. Please review.


	3. Chapter 3: The Unveilling - Origin

A/N: The "..." means there's a discontinuity in time (or 'some time later') or a shift in perspective. Thank you to those who reviewed.

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_Zachary attacked the hurlock warrior, poised in front of him with a bloody scimitar. The smell of fresh blood lingered at his senses as he recalled the death of his father. He saw his brother tied against a large Oak tree, behind the horde of darkspawn. He felt a sense of familiarity, noticing the strange situation he was once again in. He quickly turned around, only to gaze upon the same demon from his previous dreams. "What do you want?" The young Lawson demanded to know. The demon was much more vivid and her outline was much more defined. _

"_Do you want to know where your brother is?" The demon tempted, "Do you want your father to come back?" The seductive figure seemed to know all of Zachary's desires. Of course, this is the ticket to the physical world for desire demons, playing a weak-willed mage. _

"_The reason why the Chantry demands the existence of the Circle is to put down any mage that attracts demons. It isn't ill-founded. Demons are dangerous. You must be careful not to listen to them in your dreams. Don't trust your senses. Don't trust me in your dreams. Trust nothing." Zachary recited his mother's words in his lucid mind. He took control of his own dream, becoming fully aware of his false surroundings. He conjured the disappearance of all things unreal, and all that was left was darkness and the sly temptress. "No," he simply replied, and by that, even the demon disappeared._

_..._

The trip to Ostagar was taking much longer than originally planned. Elena had decided to use this time to teach her son a few basic spells. She taught him some of the basics of the four accepted schools of magic: spirit, primal, creation, and entropy. "When we dream, we enter the Fade. The energy from the Fade can be harnessed and manipulated to almost anything you want in this world." Elena explained, "You can think things into existence. Try it. Throw me a fireball. Put your mind to it."

Elena invoked a shield around her and encouraged her new apprentice. Zachary channeled all that he could in his calloused, once-sword-bearing hands, but only a small flame was produced. Exhausted from this failure, Zachary lay on the ground, panting for air and calming his heart. The shield extinguished quickly as the female mage knew the problem. She walked over to her belongings and started to forage her rain-soaked bag for the vials of blue liquid, finding a dozen or so. She handed one over to Zachary and told him to drink it, "This is a lyrium potion. It restores your mana, your ability to control the flow of energy from the Fade."

Zachary, curious as to what the taste would be, slowly released the contents of the vial in his mouth. As he swallowed the liquid, his eyes glowed with a slight tinge of blue and he felt the cool lyrium course through his veins. A connection with the Fade was rekindled, and the apprentice felt powerful. A metallic aftertaste lingered in his throat, as if he had just swallowed his own blood. He refocused the energy and summoned a combusting orb. Unfortunately for this young mage, the fire spell didn't travel far before it landed, scorching his lightly tanned skin. Elena smiled at the mishap and took pride in her son's rapid development, although there was still much work to do. She casted a dousing frost on Zachary and followed with a healing spell. The two shared a much forgotten sound, the sound of laughter that brought out tears from the young gentleman.

"You know Zack; I regret not telling you this earlier. You're extremely talented," Elena uttered, muffled within the sounds of joy shared between the two. "I don't think there's anyone else in Thedas that can fight with a sword and shield and then proceed to burn his own arm with magic."

"Yeah," Zachary chuckled as he cherished his newfound ability. He played around with his mana, astonished by what he is capable of. A concoction of frigid winds and flaring bolts emitted from his dancing arms. The young Lawson erected a barrier of rocks with ease and commanded them into a bouldering fist, destroying the frail tree that had been weakened by the recent taint. Before his mana was completely depleted, he murmured a spell that momentarily brought warmth to his surroundings.

Elena went back to her baggage that contained the vials of lyrium. As she was about to take one out, she caught a glimpse of a flower, hidden amongst the bags containing their clothes and cleaning rags. She took it out slowly, a flower with vanilla-coloured petals and a crimson core. The stark contrast the flower formed against its surroundings reminded her of the life she had had before meeting her husband. The thought of Aleks brought upon a feeling of defeat as she filled herself with grief. The intended and kind gesture by the caring father turned out to be a bringer of sorrow. "Mother," Elena jerked to the voice of his son. She quickly calmed herself, and looked to the growing man, proud of whom he has become. "Let's go." The young mage suggested.

The long hours that followed were not kind to the duo. The cold became colder, the dark became darker, and the quiet night became quieter. The young lad still kept his sword and shield with him, despite being a practitioner of magic. With his sword sheathed, Zachary lit up the night with a sustained fire spell, warming both of them and breaking the silence. Unfortunately, a glowing hand attracted many predatory creatures. The countless wilderbeasts that the duo had had to slay, although posed a minor threat on their own, had depleted their mana reserves.

The two decided to ration their remaining lyrium and instead, suffer the unforgiving night. The icy wind stiffened the muscles of the two travellers, slowing their movements to a crawl; the darkness encouraged their already heavy eyes to close; and the silence intensified the thuds of their alert, beating hearts. The two had spent considerable amount of time the last few days honing Zachary's abilities. Regrettably, this had delayed their voyage to the northeast—Ostagar was still several days away.

...

The young mage's training had not gone by without the amber-eyed spider's attention. The arachnid had been surprised to see another spell-wielder in the family. Indeed, the newly discovered mage was quite skilled, calling upon any spell with ease. The creature had left the Lawsons to their own accord after having overheard their discussion to join the battle at Ostagar. The new plan to avenge their family member and to face the darkspawn had intrigued the crawling critter.

The spider left her shapeshifted form, returning to her human body. "Mother," she began.

"I know, Morrigan," Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds as known by many, saw as well the potential brewing in the young man. She had asked her daughter to keep watch on this particular family. The numerous, seemingly random, encounters that Flemeth had had with this family made her wonder. "Is it fate or chance? I can never decide," she mumbled to herself.

Flemeth retired to her hut as her daughter returned to the wilds, looking for game. Within these rickety walls, she opened the chest at the end of her bed, ignoring the water seeping through the roof. She slowly took out her grimoire, flipped to an empty page, and began writing events that would eventually become history.

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Thanks for reading. Please review.


	4. Chapter 4: The Fifth School - Origin

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read. Enjoy.

"..." means either a shift in perspective or that some time has passed.

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_Aleks stirred the solids in the pot of stew. His beloved wife was sick with a fever, and he was tasked with making the dinner tonight. The making of a stew reminded him of an arl with whom he had blossomed a short relationship. Aleks had grown up and had trained as a knight, serving the then-arl of Redcliffe, Rendorn Geurrin. The knight of Redcliffe had often sparred with the two sons of the arl, Eamon and Teagan. During the Orlesian rule of Ferelden, the knight had travelled to the Free Marches with the heirs, spending considerable amount of time with them._

_During an assassination attempt on Eamon, Aleks, who had trained in stealth detection, disarmed the intruding rogue, saving the heir of Redcliffe. The future arl owed his life to this man who he had always considered family. The incident did no less than to have fortified the bond between the two men._

_As they grew up together, the two became fine, chivalrous gentlemen with chiselled jaw lines, muscular arms, and defined abdomens, attracting many women and envied by many other men. The life at the Free Marches wasn't completely smooth sailing, however. The knight had often had to do the duties that maids would do otherwise—cleaning, cooking, etc. Eamon often hunted in the mountainous ranges while Aleks would cook. The variety of game meat that Eamon brought back often meant that Aleks would make stew, something easy to manage. _

_The two of them had eaten dinner together almost every night. Teagan would have sometimes joined them, but would often instead, have wandered the streets. During one dinner, the two had drunk slightly too much alcohol. The two men had spent the night together, having passion and lust taking over. _

_It had become slightly awkward for the two gentlemen since that night. When Eamon and Teagan had returned to Redcliffe as Ferelden was once again freed from Orlesians, the knight decided it was his time to leave. He had written a letter of apology, and left it in Eamon's bag. He had left everything he had owned that day with the heir, except the platinum-plated sword. That, he could never have given up. _

"_Son," Aleks put his hand on Zachary's shoulder, handing him a bowl of bear meat stew "If something should ever happen to me and your mother, go to Redcliffe." The solemn tone of the patriarch worried Zachary. "The Arl of Redcliffe, Eamon Geurrin, is a kind gentleman." _

_Aleks paused before he continued. He was unsure how he was going to tell his son about his relationship with the arl. "He… is a good friend. He'll take care of you."_

The Lawson heir was unable to sleep, despite his tired and aching body demanding rest. The quiet moment provided the opportunity for the young man to recount what had transpired. The condensation of his breath in the frigid night caught his attention, reminding him of the steaming stew that his father was so good at making. He recalled the conversations that he had had with his father. Although having grown much older and being capable of caring for himself, he did wonder who this Eamon was and why his father wanted him to go there in case something happened.

His thoughts were interrupted as the silence was broken. The rustling leaves betrayed the stealth of the lurking fiends. Shrieks swarmed their trembling tents, and the haunting screams woke up the matriarch. Both arms immediately lit up with lyrium and a blasting cone of frost emitted from her hands. The shrieks caught in the ice became silent and their cries died as several of them shattered into icy pieces. The young mage enchanted his sword with a fiery glow and fortified his shield with a layer of rock. The slashes he threw out had cut straight through the black entities, burning the shrieks from the inside out. The black blood seeped out of the wounds and the sight and smell resulting caused the young man's insides to churn. A couple of frenzied shrieks threw a flurry of quick attacks, provoking a mind blast from the apprentice. A barrier shield was erected in response by the female mage, protecting her son from further harm. The last of the shrieks was dispatched easily with a horror spell, eliciting a series of screams and cries from it.

The shaken mages calmed their nerves and swallowed the last of their lyrium potions, rejuvenating their spent minds. "That night, when the bandits attacked us and tried to steal from us, when father was still alive, I heard so many terrifying screams, like they all suddenly had a nightmare. Was that magic too?" Zachary inquired as he began putting two and two together. "Did I pass out... because," he continued, but unable to finish.

"Yes, and yes, Zack. I put a sleep spell on you and the bandits. I didn't want your father to know I was an apostate. I kept it hidden for so long; I didn't know what else I could have done to save us." Elena answered, in bits and pieces, taking pause in between sentences. She began to worry; the look on her child's face showed a sign of discomfort.

"Father," Zachary started, "Father, he never knew?" Her son's inquiry brought out a swarm of emotions in the recent widow. She thought about the should haves, the could haves, and the would haves. How life would be different. How this secret had always stopped her from completely loving her husband.

The silence that came after satiated Zachary's curiosity. He wasn't mad. In fact, his naivety caused him to wonder what was so bad about magic. _"I mean, could it really be so bad? As long as mages avoid temptation from demons…" _Or so he thought. The quiet, dark night invited the two to obtain some much needed rest. The heavy eyes eventually gave in, and the mages slept to their hearts' content.

…

Elena was the first to wake with the glaring sun shining upon them. The inviting warmth evoked a smile on the adept mage's face. "Today will be a good day." She thought. She began to pack their spread out belongings, collecting the emptied vials, waiting for the right moment to wake her apprentice. She walked away from the camp, away from the trees, and towards her destination. From her position over the hill, Ostagar was visible at a distance. The large fortress was indeed magnificent. Their journey would almost be over.

Zachary woke to hear the good news from his mother. "Good timing, I suppose." Zachary smiled as he referred to the depletion of their lyrium stock. "We could get more when we're at Ostagar, right?"

"Yeah. I hope that they'll have need for our equipment. We can make exchanges." Elena remarked as the last of their contents were being packed with inhumane speed.

"I wondered why you were always so fast in packing." The boy started to laugh, "You're cheating with magic!"

The two of them shared the laugh as Elena admitted to "cheating" with the haste spell. "Yeah, I was always faster than your father." The two definitely grew closer in these times of darkness. They had to, of course.

"Hey, mother." Zachary started and then paused, as if then becoming uncertain whether to continue.

"What it is?" Elena questioned curiously. She noticed the young man furrowing his dark brown eyebrows. _What a handsome fine man my son has become_, she thought.

"Father mentioned the name Eamon Geurrin. Do you know him?" Zachary continued, gazing the distant Ostagar with his green eyes.

"No, who is he?" The mother replied. The name didn't click. She had a sudden realization that not only did her husband not know about her life before they met each other, she knew nothing about him either.

"Never mind, I guess it's not important." And thus the conversation died.

The two entered the last forest that separated them from Ostagar. This forest was slightly different, perhaps less tainted. Even with the sun setting, it did not escape the notice of the young man that the trees were greener here. Indeed, the sky was clearer and the flowers were more vibrant.

"We will set camp here, only one more night." The senior mage commented with the widest smile she had made since the death of Aleks.

"Yeah." Zachary simply acknowledged. The thought of the empty vials of lyrium gave the young man an uneasy feeling. He had begun to rely on magic to fend off the creatures that reside in the wilds. He stared softly at the bag with the empty vials and drifted slowly into sleep.

…

Duncan felt the darkspawn in the Korcari wilds. It had been nearly four centuries since the last blight, and even he was unsure that these feelings amounted to anything. However, his vigilance had served him well so far. The small groups of darkspawn that had wandered the woods were snuffed out easily by the experienced Grey Warden. Despite having warned the King of Ferelden, however, it would seem that nobody would believe him. His plight against the darkspawn had been made worse by the dwindling number of Grey Wardens. And thus, here he was, walking alone in the wilds and wondering where to seek recruits to bolster their numbers.

He had thought about using the Right of Conscription, but Ferelden was very weak politically. The recent Orlesian rule had turned many men against each other. The Chantry refused to offer her men to the Order; even getting Alistair to join caused great conflict between the Chantry and the Grey Wardens. The use of the Right of Conscription would surely rip the already torn Ferelden apart.

His walk in the woods eventually led him to a small camp. He scanned the area and noticed a recently extinguished campfire, two tents, each with one occupant, and an unusual calmness. He wondered who would brave the wilds during a Blight, and questioned whether it was naivety or stupidity. His taint suddenly offered him a sense of nearby darkspawn. Perhaps he attracted them here. He stealthed quickly, and would be sorry for what was about to occur.

…

The events that followed happened much too quickly. The darkspawn easily swarmed the two mages due to their minimal lyrium reserves. The young apprentice fought with his sword and shield, defending his only blood relative with his life. His warcries and talents only allowed him to fight off so many before he was swept off his feet and a flurry of attacks stormed them. "Mother, I am sorry," were the last words that Zachary thought he would say.

"They will not take you." Elena had no choice. She took a knife out and prayed to the Maker.

She took the weapon and bled herself to near death.

And the resulting magic, it was one that Zachary would never forget.

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Thank you for reading. Please review.


	5. Chapter 5: The Abomination - Origin

A/N: Thank you to those who are continually reading this story. I appreciate the interest.

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_Elena planned to leave the Circle. "Leave with me, Irving." Elena pleaded. The two young mages were often distraught at their plight—the templars were extremely unrelenting. The route to escape had been drawn for several weeks and they had been waiting for the opportunity to escape. All they still needed were their phylacteries. _

_Irving got cold feet as they entered the arctic room that housed their blood. The haunting air gave the man an uneasy feeling. It seemed too easy. _

_Elena canvassed the room carefully, searching for what was rightfully theirs. She joked, "They don't sort these in alphabetical order, do they. It just can't be easy, can it?" She rummaged through the cabinets, giving each vial a quick scan. "How do you think they track us with these? There must be blood magic involved, huh." She derived pleasure in her sudden revelation. She continued to scoff, "And they want to kill all of us in fear of blood magic?" _

_Elena's phylactery caught Irving's glance. His doubts had stopped him from immediately taking the vial and crushing it. "Elena," he solemnly said, "I can't go with you. I can't burden my family. The templars will look for them if they find that we're gone." The woman said nothing, only facing the man that had just abandoned her. She saw her phylactery behind him and steered herself towards it. The mage shattered the vial that held her essence and left the frigid room. _

_As she returned to the tower's main floor, she felt defeated and betrayed. "Hey!" A templar roared, vibrating the walls of the tall tower. He must have had noticed her coming from the door to the basement. The holy smite that soon followed drained the escapee of her mana. His shout earlier served as a call for help and other templars soon swarmed the halls. _

_Had Elena not escaped that day, she would most definitely be thrown into a prison worse than the Circle. Perhaps, she'd be made tranquil. With this in mind, and with no mana, she resorted to blood magic. She boiled the blood of her assailants and hemorrhaged their veins. She enslaved several templars with her blood to further the distractions. The diversion had caused enough confusion that she was able to exit the tower. And so she did, never looking back._

Elena's blood spewed all over their camp and the strength of her magic became unrivalled. The darkspawn around her, first to fall victim to this power, twitched as the blood in their veins heated and boiled. The hurlocks further out were controlled by her magic as they began to turn on one another, hacking their once-brethren. Despite the trance that she was seemingly in, the mother still made sure to envelop her child with defensive spells, giving Zachary the endurance to fight on. _They will not take you._

Zachary was mortified at the amount of blood that her mother lost. The dirt ground, now sanguine in colour, began to tremble as an earthquake spell was summoned. The young man took up arms, once again, and gave out warcries that stunned the genlock archers from afar. The haste spell bestowed upon him allowed his swift movements to knock several enemies down before they started reacting. Dropping his sword and using only one hand, he conjured a ball of winter and shattered the shriek that was about to strike her mother from behind. The battle would seem endless, as darkspawn continued to pour.

…

The stealthed Warden, astonished by the resilience of the female mage and male warrior-mage, uncloaked himself and began his onslaught of their common enemy. Slaying the ranged hurlocks with a quick cut to their throat, his dexterous maneuvers afforded him stealth between attacks. He noticed the female mage's face paled as she continued to invoke spell after spell, depleting her blood in the process. The battle still, however, looked lost and the Warden had considered retreating, leaving the two mages to their own fate. His worries only grew when the female's life was forfeit.

…

Elena couldn't resist the inner temptation as her life weakened with the loss of blood. Her body transformed into an abomination, releasing a shockwave that threw the nearby darkspawn to their death and threatened the farther darkspawn to the point that they fled. The victory was uneasy. The victory was bittersweet. The victory was unglorified.

The green-eyed gentleman was paralyzed with fear. His eyes focused on the newly spawned monstrosity in terror. "Wh—a—a—," his voice trembled as he muttered sounds of horror. Not only did the mage's mana deplete, but his stamina was dwindling with the repeated use of talents. He realized that the abomination had noticed his presence as it was now slowly moving towards him. _I… I can't kill my own mother. _

A darker skinned man appeared out of thin air to Zachary's right, presumably coming out of stealth. The young mage picked up his bloodied sword and held his worn shield close to his torso. The man had slick back black hair and a dense beard. He held two daggers that themselves were also tainted with ebony blood. "I'm a Grey Warden," the man spoke to him, "We can talk later."

The stance that the Grey Warden took while facing the abomination refocused Zachary to their immediate danger. _I'm sorry._ The Lawson heir took up his shield in a defense stance. The Warden had handed him both a stamina draught and a lyrium potion which he gladly drank. His artificially recovered strength allowed him to taunt his enemy. The abomination unleashed swipes of fury, easily blocked by the shield. His weapon, enchanted with frost, struck the arm of the abomination, solidifying it in place. The bash of the shield that followed shattered the frozen arm, and the abomination shrieked in reply.

The Warden finished the battle with a timely backstab. He twisted his daggers while they bore deep into the abomination, felling the horrid beast. The two gentlemen caught their breath as they sat down, allowing their minds to digest what had just transpired. "Duncan," the Warden broke the silence and introduced himself.

"Zachary," the surviving Lawson muttered. The warrior-mage had just lost his remaining family over the past several days, and it was at this moment that he had thought about his future for the first time. A brief pause, and the Lawson continued, "Duncan, I'd like to join you."

The Grey Warden had been familiar with wanting vengeance. The skill that the young boy displayed was strongly unparalleled by any single mage or warrior alone. He was impressed by his ability to wield a sword and a fireball at the same moment. He worried however, that this might not be the best for the young man. "I know how you feel, Zachary—"

"Duncan," The mage interrupted, "We were going to join the King at the battle at Ostagar. That was where we were headed anyway. I'll make myself useful."

There was no doubt in Duncan's mind that he would be useful. He decided that he'd watch over the young man, making sure that Zachary's anger doesn't cause him to become reckless. "Yeah, we could definitely use a mage like yourself," the Warden graciously held his hand out, giving the mage a warm welcome.

A forced smile appeared on Zachary's face as he joined the rank of the mighty Grey Warden.

And of course, this was predicted in Flemeth's grimoire entries.

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Thanks for reading. Please review. (This will be the last Origin chapter as the following chapters will be less AU-like)


	6. Chapter 6: The Mage and The Clown

A/N: I've used some of the in-game dialogue in this chapter. Let me know if you think that's something you would like seeing more of or not either through a PM or a review. Thanks for reading. Enjoy.

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The remaining journey to Ostagar was uneventful. Duncan and Zachary made small talk here and there, but the young heir hadn't been interested in talking until Duncan brought up the plight of the Grey Wardens and the Blight.

"The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It's fitting we make our stand here, even if we face a different foe in the forest." Duncan explained as they neared the entrance of Ostagar. "The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment, but all of us are here. This blight must be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall."

Zachary had no interest, really, in the prospects of Ferelden. The inner fire in the young man could only be doused with the death of all darkspawn. The insignia on the family shield that he carried reminded him of his duties to carry on the family name. Zachary had been told that the heraldry had been designed for the Lawson family, despite them not being nobility. How and why his father would obtain this design remained a mystery to him—It bore the symbol of a grey tower, standing proud upon a slab of red, cracked rock, all in front of a white background.

As he approached Ostagar, he noticed how feeble the fortress seemed to be up close. Although the tower within looked grand and the fortress itself was impressive, the years had not been kind to it. Zachary, having lived a nomadic life, marvelled anyhow at the sight. As he continued to assess his new surroundings, he noticed the approach of three men.

"Ho there, Duncan!" The center of the three men greeted. He had well-groomed blonde hair, darker blonde stubbles, and a killer smile. The air around him seemed lively and it was a much welcomed sight for the young mage.

"King Cailan? I didn't expect…" Duncan mouthed as his Majesty stood in front of him. Zachary was nonetheless surprised to meet the King of Ferelden.

"A royal welcome? I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!" The king jested. As the conversation between the two continued, the mage stood in awe as he gazed upon the gentleman. He had thought all kings were old geysers or something like that from his imagination of stories being told to him, and never would have thought a king to be such a young, cheerful man in vibrant gold armor. Zachary's thoughts were cut short as the king began to speak to him.

"Hello there. I am Cailan," the King of Ferelden introduced himself without his title.

Zachary had only heard stories of kings and royalty and of course had never actually seen one for himself. The young mage flustered in front of the king and stammered as he tried awkwardly to oblige honorific norms. "Uhh… Your Majesty. My name is Zachary, Zachary Lawson, your Majesty, Highness, Ser—Majesty."

Cailan chuckled and put his hand on the young recruit's shoulder, "No need for formalities, Grey Warden." Having received a nervous smile from the young mage, the King of Ferelden took his hand off the mage before shifting his head towards Duncan and commenting, "You must both be eager to reach your tents. Have you any news before I go?"

Duncan brought the news to Cailan that Redcliffe forces sent by the king's uncle would be there in less than a week. _Redcliffe? _Zachary thought. Of course, the seemingly reckless king joked at the possibility that "Eamon simply wanted in on the glory" and that the several battles they have had were easily won. Lifting one eyebrow, the King then mentioned his doubts that this was even truly a Blight, disheartening the senior Grey Warden. How could the Grey Warden expect the king to believe him based on his mere feelings? This Order hadn't seen the respect they deserved in such a long time that it had been refreshing to see the King so optimistic. Perhaps, asking for the king's trust was too much, however.

His Majesty mentioned briefly about meeting Loghain and then left the two Grey Wardens to their own accord.

"What the king said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn here." Duncan sometimes would rather that the army had suffered losses. Perhaps this way, the king would finally admit to a full-fledged Blight and be less nonchalant about the matter at hand.

"His Majesty didn't seem to take it too seriously," Zachary continued. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn't in the nature of a king to worry. Perhaps it was his way to boost morale. Whatever it was, only the Grey Wardens knew of the danger, and the king and his men had remained unwittingly calm.

"True. Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us." The seriousness of Duncan's tone grew as he continued, "I know there is an archdemon behind this. But… I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling. His high regard for Grey Wardens makes him believe he is invulnerable."

The short talk that came afterwards helped Zachary realize that the number of Grey Wardens in Ferelden had dwindled over the years. The king and Duncan would thus rely on Teyrn Loghain's men to fill the gap, resulting in Cailan's leave earlier. Duncan had also left by now to tend to the preparations for the Joining. He had asked Zachary to explore the camp and to let the most recent Grey Warden, Alistair, know when he was ready for the secret ritual.

Having been left alone, the Lawson heir decided to visit the camp and meet his soon-to-be comrades. He took note of the impeccable view as he stood on the edge of the Imperial Highway, hundreds of feet above ground, despite the obvious potholes and fractures in the road. The bright tangerine banners, marked with red stripes and a griffon, spanned the bridge, signifying the presence of the Grey Wardens. At the end of that bridge and into the camp itself, Zachary noticed several mages gathering energy from the Fade.

"I'm sorry, but the mages must not be interrupted." A well-armed knight said as he halted the Grey Warden recruit from proceeding. From his armor and the stories told by his mother, the young mage figured that the knight was a templar. Zachary gave the mages another glance, pitying their plight as he recalled the stories that his mother had told him. He continued to walk inwards and awed at the amount of people there were. His previous life had never landed him the opportunity to see so many people at once.

As he continued, an old lady greeted him, "Greetings, young man. You are Duncan's newest recruit, are you not? He's not a man easily impressed. You should be proud. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the king."

"I'm not sure 'impressed' is the right word. I had no choice but to deal with the abominations and the darkspawn that attacked me," Zachary replied bluntly, clearly annoyed at the fact that someone is telling him what to feel. "And I'm not proud that my family perished because of it."

"I am sorry." Wynne acknowledged the grief that this new recruit was having. "I know how you feel."

Unwilling to continue with the conversation, Zachary simply left, and said, "I should get going." _Who was she to know how I feel. No wonder mother left the Circle._ Perhaps it was his secluded life that made it hard to interact with others, or perhaps Wynne was _truly_ annoying. Either way, the man stayed no longer and left to search for Alistair.

Zachary carried most of the luggage that his family had with them to Ostagar. His brief encounter and exchanges with the quartermaster garnered him a few lyrium potions and stamina draughts. The man gave the young mage a strange look as no one surely would need both. As he continued to wander about the camp, looking for Alistair, he realized he had no clue how this new Grey Warden would look like. He chuckled at his little mishap, reminding himself of how silly he was when he started learning magic. Then, he thought of his mother. Then, he thought of the Wilds flower. He rummaged through his bag looking for the flower, and took it out. He simply sat in the middle of camp, forgetting about everything for that one moment, and saying to himself, "I will avenge you, mother and father."

His wanderabouts eventually led close to sunset, and he hadn't yet found Alistair. His walk to the eastern ends of the fort led him to eavesdrop on a conversation shared by two men. Perhaps he will ask them where and who Alistair is. Apparently, an argument arose as a message was being delivered by a young man with light brown hair, darker yet stubbles, and a killer smile. _Wait, that's oddly familiar._ Although the recipient of the message was not pleased with the messenger's attitude, Zachary was amused at the humour that the man had.

"Here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you… the grumpy one." The messenger spoke, eliciting a chuckle from the new recruit. As the man eventually agreed to do as asked, the messenger turned to Zachary, and muttered with a smile, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Zachary returned the charm, "I know exactly what you mean."

"It's like a party! We can all stand in a circle and hold hands. That will give the darkspawn something to think about." The messenger continued on, playing with this man he had just … _not yet_ met. "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage."

For some reason, Zachary decided not to say so. His mother's stories kept haunting his every decision—perhaps it's not wise to tell others. "Would that make your day worse?" Zachary asked, cautiously, only to be replied to with a joke.

"Hardly, I just like to know my chances of being turned into a toad at any given moment." The two men shared a good laugh at that. "Wait, I do know who you are, you're Duncan's new recruit. I should have recognized you right away; I apologize." The messenger extended his hand.

"How…?" The befuddled mage asked.

"Duncan sent word. He spoke quite highly of you. I see that he's right. You're a handsome lad." An awkward pause followed, only to be broken by the messenger once again, "Uhh, allow me to introduce myself; I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden. As the junior member of the Order, I will be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

"It's good to see you, Alistair; I've been looking for you all day." Zachary continued the pleasantries.

"Oh, have you? I'm a sneaky one, aren't I?" Alistair joked as his headache with the mages was nowhere near going to go away. "Anyway, I'd like to ask, have you fought darkspawn before?"

"I rather not speak about it." Zachary returned to his short sentences. The recollection of the events before today was too mentally taxing on the young mage.

"No problem. Anyhow, whenever you're ready, let's head back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started. Daveth and Ser Jory, the other recruits, are here in the camp already." Alistair had learned to take notice of facial cues and nuances. Changing the subject was what he was good at.

The mage sense an uneasiness too in the senior Warden, and to loosen the situation, he mumbled, "Thanks. I look forward to travelling with you, Alistair."

"You do? Huh, that's a switch. If you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on." The two men shared a few more jokes on their way to Duncan, and by now the sun had nearly set. Zachary wasn't sure what he was feeling with this man, he felt like the man was family, and somehow he could trust him with his life, as he did with mother and father.

At the meeting with Duncan, the group of four, Zachary, Jory, Daveth, and Alistair, was tasked with gathering darkspawn blood and a series of Grey Warden treaties. The job was not difficult, but Zachary had avoided using magic to fight. His sword and shield had served him well enough to avoid death. However, significant bruising appeared, and he had had to secretly heal himself, doing so away from the rest of the group.

…

The intrusion of the Wilds by the Grey Warden and three men did not go by unnoticed. Flemeth had earlier retrieved the treaties from the chest that had lost its magical shield. She had asked Morrigan to investigate the four trespassers, and to satisfy their needs.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Morrigan startled the four men. "I have watched you for some time. Where do they go? Why are they here?" Morrigan had obviously _known_ of the mage before this. But perhaps it was unwise to reveal it now.

"Don't answer her," Alistair whispered into the ears of the new recruit. "She looks Chasind, meaning others are probably nearby."

"Oh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" Morrigan remarked, noting the obviously dimwitted man in the group of four.

"Yes, swooping is bad…" The Grey Warden sneered.

The resulting conversation between the amber-eyed witch and the new recruit brought the four to a nearby hut, where another Witch of the Wilds greeted them, much older. _It just can't be easy, can it?_

"Much as I expected," the older witch commented. _She was expecting us?_ Zachary thought. The old witch continued to make comments that neither the recruits nor the Grey Warden understood. They seem to predict what will happen, but nothing had been explicitly said, other than "this Blight's threat is greater than they realize." The witch handed back the treaties, satisfied with seeing the newly recruited Warden, the one that she had kept an eye on all these years.

Content with their results, the four journeyed back to Ostagar, chaperoned by Morrigan, nonetheless. As the other three gentlemen returned to Duncan to report the news of the Witches of the Wild, Zachary headed off elsewhere. _I'm going to become a Grey Warden should I go through with the Joining. _His mindlessness led him to bump into a man who watched over the Mabari war dogs. "Oh, I'm sorry," Zachary apologized sincerely, "I wasn't watching."

"No harm done." The kennel master spoke. He gave a sigh, "Do you know of Mabari?"

The Lawson family used to own a Mabari dog. It had suddenly appeared one day during one of their road trips, starving to no end. The elder son of the family had provided the dog food and shelter, and of course, love. Zachary loved the Mabari too. When his brother had disappeared, the Mabari had spent most of its time with Zachary. One day, as the dog had begun to feel better, it decided to leave, perhaps chasing some wild animal, forgetting how to get home.

"Of course, I used to have one," Zachary replied the kennel master.

"This one, he's sick. The darkspawn taint is killing it. Mabaris are a bit more resilient to the taint, and it can be cured, but… I don't have time to go look for the ingredient." The sad eyes betrayed the kennel master's calmness and he seemed genuinely worried about the dog.

"What is it that you need?" Zachary inquired. Perhaps he can help with saving this one too.

"A flower from the Wilds. It has white petals and a red center. There aren't any in Ostagar, and you would have to travel the dangerous Wilds to find them." The Mabari owner had used all of the ingredients to save the dogs from the last fight. "The Mabaris play a large role in these nightly battles with the darkspawn. They act as the tank in many cases, and they are strong-willed."

Zachary pulled from his bag the flower that his father had plucked for his mother. "This is what you need?" The kennel master's eyes grew wide with surprise, as if the Maker himself had sent a saviour.

"Thank you so much! This Mabari will live, for sure. Until the battle, at least, anyway." The kennel master wasted no time, and started crafting the medicine for the dog.

Zachary whispered goodbye to his mother and his father as he gave away the last object that reminded him of both of them.

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Thank you for reading. Please review.


	7. Chapter 7: The Shattered Dream

A/N: Thanks for keeping up with the story. I have diverged slightly from the in-game dialogue just to make it more fitting to this world. It's not completely out of character though. Enjoy!

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"The more I hear about the Joining, the less I like it." Ser Jory wasn't thrilled that the secret of the ritual had been kept from him until now. "There is no sense in tricking recruits to their deaths. Why would anyone find glory in this? Glory in sacrificing us?" A brief pause, and Ser Joey continued, "I have a wife and a child on the way. If they had only warned me… this just isn't fair."

"Would you have agreed to this if they had told you earlier?" Daveth retorted. "I would give up so much more if it ended the blight." For once, the snobby man had made a good point. Had it not been the darkspawn, the Lawsons would still be alive, and Zachary wouldn't be alone. "Sacrifices must be made to allow a future worth saving."

The three recruits and Alistair stood in silence. Daveth's unexpected seriousness struck them harshly; his words rang a dark truth that they had known for so long, but had not acknowledged. The four gentlemen turned their heads as Duncan walked in with a speech regarding the First Wardens.

"We're… going to drink the blood of those… creatures?" The horrified Jory quivered.

"As the First Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power, and our victory," Duncan persuaded, raising a fist to make his point. "We speak only a few words prior to the Joining; but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would."

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And if you should perish, know that your sacrifice shall not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you." The junior member recited, as if practiced a hundred times. The three recruits looked at each other, unknowing of their future.

Duncan handed to Daveth the chalice containing a portion of the three vials of darkspawn blood. The eager recruit swallowed the thick, black liquid and felt his heart beat irregularly. The veins that had once transported crimson red blood were now filled tainted with dense, charcoal fluid that remained still. The man's charming eyes no had longer showed any trace of its usual being, and rather, became milky white. A choke escaped the young recruit and he fell, knees first, and remained lifeless on the cold, unforgiving floor.

"No!" Ser Jory screamed. He refused to become another victim and pulled his gleaming sword. "This isn't fair! I've got my wife and a child coming! There is no justice is this." The recruit repeated.

Duncan would not allow the secret of the Joining to be spread throughout Thedas. "It has never been about justice. The darkspawn has never been about justice." The senior Warden took his sharp dagger and lunged at the doubtful recruit. The recruit parried the dagger, but was not quick enough to stop the following attacks. One skillful jab was all it took and Jory fell to the ground, just as lifeless as Daveth was several moments ago.

Zachary was handed the chalice by Alistair. "Allow me, Duncan." The junior recruit said. "You must know that this is necessary, Zachary. It is only through this that we have a fighting chance with the darkspawn."

Zachary nodded politely, and took the chalice in his hand. He took a sip of the pungent and viscous concoction. The young mage could only feel his heartbeats, fast, but regular. The veins of the soon-to-be Warden were darkened, but remained carmine. Although the eyes had shown mostly white, it recovered quickly to its usual shine. Zachary fell backwards, into a deep slumber, but quickly resumed normal breathing.

Both Alistair and Duncan were pleased to see that at least one of the recruits had been successful.

…

_A large dragon released its commanding roar, drawing Zachary's … body. It was hard for Zachary to resist the temptation. For some reason, he wanted to submit to this dragon; something was extremely alluring. The roar continued, and Zachary was about to give in_

"Are you alright?" The brunet, junior Warden asked Zachary as he woke. "The King and the Teyrn would like to speak with us Grey Wardens." An awkward silence brew as Zachary was only beginning to recover and had said nothing in reply. "Uhh, welcome to our ranks, anyway, whatever comfort that may provide." Alistair had asked Duncan to leave earlier, giving the two young lads some time. He felt that Zachary would appreciate the sentiment and that it would be easier to wake up to someone less… intense. He knew Duncan too well; although he was a kind man, he could come off as being too pushing. In fact, Alistair himself was conscripted. Although he had doubts about staying at the Chantry as a templar, the choice had been taken from him. Nonetheless, however, he was grateful for him. "Anyway, did you have dreams?" Alistair finally inquired, "These dreams, they're how we sense the darkspawn."

Zachary gave a simple nod as he was reminded of the dragon.

"We took some of the darkspawn blood, and we placed it in this. Take it. It'll serve as a reminder for those who didn't make it thus far." Alistair spoke as he handed over the amulet. "Anyway, we should attend to the meeting. We shouldn't keep the king waiting. It's no fun when he's in a fit," chuckled Alistair, as he left the new Warden alone to meet the King of Ferelden.

…

As the young mage wandered about the camp before heading to where he was needed, he reminded himself of the stories his father had used to tell him. In a way, he felt cheated. He felt no more superior, no grander, no mightier, and no more respected. Sometimes, he wondered if those flags really carried the honour they ought to. The legendary griffons, the knights in shining armour, and the well-coordinated battalions; none of them existed as far as he could tell. It now became a sad Order, long having been abandoned by very country it swore to protect. Still, its purpose never wavered.

His wanderabouts eventually brought him to the supposed meeting. "Ahh, this is the young lad that I had met earlier. I understand congratulations are in order," the king kindly mentioned. "Every Grey Warden is needed at these times."

"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan. We must attend to reality." An older man in thick armour transgressed. _This must be the teyrn_, Zachary thought. _Who else would speak like that to the King?_

"Fine, speak your strategies," the king resigned. The plans were discussed thoroughly between the king and the teyrn, but Zachary's mind was elsewhere. He stared at the King who was serious for once, and it reminded the young mage of someone else. Zachary couldn't quite grasp at who it was; perhaps the obviousness blinded him. He stared at the King until he was being spoken to.

"We will send Alistair and the new Warden to the tower of Ishal. They will light the beacon to signal for the flank," the King ordered the others. Zachary realized this would mean they would not be fighting the darkspawn firsthand, but he did not know how to protest. The king grinned, "I cannot wait for the glorious moment. The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!" Any protest at this point would remain unsettled, seeing the king so confident in this coming battle.

Zachary had caught in his peripheral vision that Alistair was restless. Soon after they all left and only the three Grey Wardens remained, the uneasiness was apparent. "So the king needs two Grey Wardens, standing at the tower, holding up the torch?" Alistair complained.

"I agree, we should be—" Zachary added, but unable to finish.

"That is not your choice. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there." Duncan retorted, showing his respect to the king. _He would do anything to keep the King safe and happy. _"We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn… excitingor no."

"I get it. I get it. Just so you know, if theking asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no," Alistair argued, half joking, half serious.

A chuckled escaped the newest Warden's lips. "That'd be quite a sight to see for anyone or _anything_," Zachary laughed. There was something about Alistair that made even the grimmest moments enjoyable for the young mage.

"Maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress. Perhaps we could shimmy down the darkspawn line? Perhaps, Ferelden would be united at last, for once." Alistair grinned. The thought of this made the two junior Wardens share a good laugh and even Duncan had to smile.

Duncan had finished off the instructions, and had said that Alistair would know when to light when it came to it. He left the two Wardens alone, and walked towards the King's tent; there was something to be done before the battle.

Alistair and Zachary gave each other a knowing look and the two walked as equals, ready to face the upcoming battle.

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Thanks for reading. Please review.


	8. Chapter 8: The Witch of the Wilds

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read. It's nice to see a large increase in viewers over the past few days.

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The battle was a disaster. Alistair couldn't bear the thought of having lost his half-brother and Duncan. _He trusted Loghain! How could he!_ His heart was shredded at the thought of them having to suffer the realization that no flank was to arrive. He could only stare off into the forest in silence as he continued to dwell on his misfortunes, forgetting his benefactors. The Witches of the Wilds have kindly helped the two surviving Wardens out of the Tower of Ishal. Alistair had no recollection of what had transpired, and had chewed on only what was told to him. All Alistair could remember was how the two men had fought bravely against the darkspawn ogre, so eager to fulfill the duties given to them. He swore that Zachary's skills were ungodly, how strong his every strike was and how swift his every movement was. They had lit the Tower beacon as soon as they fell the ogre, but were then quickly swarmed by the overwhelming number of hurlocks and genlocks.

His thoughts were interrupted as the mother of the two Witches spoke, "See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much young man."

Both Wardens were speechless at the sight of one another. The sight of Alistair pleased Zachary. Surely, it was fate that the two had made it. Zachary broke the silence as nodded to his fellow Warden, and then to the old lady, "I hear from Morrigan that you saved us. I would like to thank you properly, but what should I call you?"

"The Chasind folk call me Flemeth; I suppose it would do." The mother Witch responded, not believing in the necessity of having names.

"**The** Flemeth?" Both Alistair and Zachary's eyes opened. Even Zachary had read stories about the Witch of the Wilds. Little did he know, however, those legends were true. He had no doubt that they were different the first time they met, but it was strange to see a legend in a form of a frail old woman.

"Don't think that about me," Flemeth glared at the young male mage. "Although, it would be refreshing if you had spoken your mind instead. Anyway, what does it matter? My presence has served you both well, has it not? And what are you Grey Wardens going to do now?" The latter question targeted at Zachary.

"Yes, and we thank you, Flemeth. Alistair's the Grey Warden here, not me." Zachary replied, with respect, of course, not wanting to anger the Witch. Of course these words were as true to Zachary as his mother's death. He did, in fact, owed their lives to Flemeth and he had had the smallest idea of what a Grey Warden had to do. Perhaps he could leave the Order and avenge his family some other way.

"All Grey Wardens in Ferelden are gone, except for us. I lost everyone…" The senior of the two Wardens lamented. "For the love of the Maker, don't back out on me now. I… can't do anything on my own." The frown on Alistair's face made it hard for Zachary to continue with his own wishes. At first, the sight of a weak man disgusted Zachary. But to be honest with himself, he used to be no better. It was, in fact, Duncan that helped him out of his self-defeating attitude. Perhaps he could understand that. But if in fact it were true that there were only two of them left, how would they continue? What would they do? How do they even recruit more Wardens? He had no idea what the Joining required other than darkspawn blood; it couldn't be that simple. These thoughts rummaged through the junior Warden's head.

"Not only do we have the darkspawn to contend with, we must deal with Loghain. Morrigan has told me that there were no reinforcements, despite the lighting of the Tower," Zachary mentioned, suddenly realizing that they were far from uniting Ferelden to face the darkspawn.

"Anyway, whatever Loghain's insanity, he obviously thinks that darkspawn are a minor threat. We must warn everyone that this isn't the case," Alistair compounded the notion. "We must also warn others about Loghain, in fact. He just betrayed his own king! If Arl Eamon knew what he did at Ostagar, he would be first to call for his execution!"

_Arl Eamon?_ "The arl of Redcliffe?" Zachary blurted in surprise. _What does he have to do with this? Father knew of him. Perhaps he would help. _

"I suppose…" Alistair began, "He wasn't at Ostagar and he still have all his men. He's Cailan's uncle, a good man, respected at the Landsmeet." As if arguing to himself, he continued, "Of course! We could appeal to him for help." The prospect of the Arl, uncle of the late King Cailan, being his father's "good friend", as his father had put it, gave Zachary a reassuring warmth. Perhaps it wasn't all bad. "And of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from elves, dwarves, mages, and other places. They're obligated to help us during the Blight!" Alistair continued, only to arouse the Witch of the Wilds.

"This sounds like an army to me." Flemeth smiled.

"So can we do this?" Alistair looked over to his fellow Warden, suddenly glowing with excitement. "Go to Redcliffe and these other places and build an army? It's always been the Grey Wardens' duty to stand against the Blight. And right now, we are the Grey Wardens."

"You make it sound so exciting, Alistair. But I must—" Zachary started, but interrupted by his fellow Warden.

"Say you'll stay with me. You can, can't you?" Alistair sounded almost as if he was begging, as if he was a child, begging his beloved sister to make his favorite mince pie. The man caught himself, however, sounding desperate. "Uhh, my apologies. I meant, you are a Grey Warden, and you'll fulfill your duties, won't you?

"I was only going to say, we must say goodbye to Morrigan and thank her for her help. Of course, I'll go with you," the Lawson lied. Honestly, although he wanted to meet the arl of Redcliffe, he had no idea how long this journey would take them. The grand life that he thought the Wardens would have had was nowhere to be seen. During the few seconds that Alistair had spoken, however, the newest Warden had thought about what else he could do. To be frank to himself, there was no other choice. He was with the Wardens for good, well, at least with Alistair for good.

"Well, actually, before you do that, there is one more thing," Flemeth mentioned as she turned her head towards the approaching young witch.

"The stew is bubbling, mother dear. Shall we have two guests for the eve, or none?" Morrigan spoke softly, glancing over at the two men.

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl." The mother replied, sneaking in the last few words "and you will be joining them."

"Such a shame—what?" The younger witch shocked at her mother's words. "I know, mother, that I have been, as you say, 'itching to get out of the wilds,' but this is not how I wanted this!"

The two women had a brief quarrel before Morrigan submitted to her mother's wish. Of course, Alistair wasn't thrilled to take on an apostate and his inner templar did not make it easier. However, the willingness of Zachary to accept help made it easier for Alistair to stash his personal feelings aside. Despite being the senior of the two Wardens, Alistair did prefer to be led, rather than lead. "Allow me to get my things, if you please," the defeated witch said as she hurried to the tent to gather her belongings.

As she returned from the tent, she said her goodbyes to her mother, "Farewell, mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

"Bah!" The older witch scoffed, " 'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area along with my hut swallowed up by the Blight."

"I— All I meant was—" Morrigan stammered, shocked to hear her mother's harsh reply.

"Yes, I know. Do try to have fun, dear." Flemeth interrupted, easing the tension. The remaining two Wardens also said their goodbyes and the three of them were headed to Lothering, a village north of the Wilds.

…

Morrigan was still uncertain about her mother's choice. They had watched over the Lawsons for quite a few years now, and her mother had even written in her grimoire about them. Of course, she had read parts of her mother's grimoire whenever she had the chance, but she never really understood the entries. In fact, Flemeth had never really talked to her about the Lawsons, and it was a wonder if Flemeth expected her to know anything. All in all, her mother's motives had never been clear to her.

This would indeed, however, be discovered much, much later.

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Thank you for reading.


	9. Chapter 9: The Red Insignia

A/N: Thank you for following the story. I've decided to cut down on dialogue for this chapter to see how things go. Bear with me as I experiment with the style. Thanks.

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"Does this mean we are going to have this mangy beast follow us around?" scoffed Morrigan. "Wonderful. Just wonderful," she continued, disappointed at the two grown men who were now ruffling the hair of the new companion, a dog, and forgetting their purpose. The Mabari that the kennel master had saved before the Battle at Ostagar had imprinted Zachary as its master, thanking its saviour for his Wild Flower. The Lawson swore that this dog was the same one that he and his brother had shared; but most likely it was because they looked all the same. He had never stopped wondering where his brother had gone and whether he was still alive or not.

Alistair, loving the company of the loyal beast, said adoringly while continually playing with the dog, "He's not maaangy… Just _look_ at its fur! All soft, and warm, and smooth. Honestly, I could pet this dog all day." For the brunet, this was perhaps the only good thing that had happened so far. First, there was Ostagar, and then the presence of Morrigan, an apostate—no, a Witch of the Wilds. The walk from the Korcari Wilds to Lothering was no better. They had been interrupted repeatedly as darkspawn continuously appeared and halted their path. During one of their encounters, the Mabari had lept from the trees and had saved Alistair from the Hurlock Emissary. The darkspawn was channeling a Mass Paralysis spell, moments from releasing its powerful magic and allowing the other hurlocks and genlocks to overwhelm the group easily. The dog charged at the darkspawn sorcerer and knocked it down, stopping its mana flow. It then gave off a Dread Howl and stunned the enemies near the Warden, allowing Alistair time to regain his fortitude. The party easily dispatched the rest of the horde and Alistair soon found the dog near his side, licking his wounds. Alistair, who was extremely ticklish, elicited a giggle, and then a guffaw as the young man couldn't decide if it was pleasure or torture.

Morrigan, disgusted by the dog and its shared affection with Alistair, expressed her feelings, "How odd. We now have a dog and Alistair is _still_ the dumbest one in the party. You could have died there if this … beast wasn't around." Even the witch had to admit that the dog had been necessary for this expedition to continue. Imagine if that idiotic Warden had just died here and now. Of course, however, Flemeth would not allow such travesty to occur. She had clearly written in her grimoire that these Wardens, in spite of their lack of abilities, will succeed and end the Fifth Blight. How they will achieve this though, Morrigan had no idea. The witch trusts her mother, nonetheless; she was hardly ever wrong.

Morrigan had wondered why Zachary had never used magic in their battles. Surely, magic would make things much easier. She had initially thought that it was not her business and perhaps he was afraid of friendly fire, but many of the battles they have had so far were close calls. A timely frost bolt or a lightning strike would have easily done it; why bother with a hefty sword and a colossal shield? Her thoughts continued to wander as the group of four marched on, leaving the Wilds and travelling on the Imperial Highway. While they had left behind the tainted Wilds, they were halted by a group of men who introduced themselves as toll collectors, "Greetings, travellers!"

"Highwaymen, preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose." Alistair whispered to his fellow Warden, annoyed at their terrible luck.

"They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson," the witch added. Her eyes shone a lyrium blue as if they were intensely heated. She grabbed her staff, and the head of it began to glow lavender as she channeled a spirit spell.

The leader of the highwaymen screamed, "a—a—a—a bloody blood mage!" and hurried themselves away. Of course, most laymen couldn't tell the difference between an apostate and a maleficar. Magic, especially outside the Circle, was rarely seen by humans in Ferelden. Thanks to their Andrastian Chantry, many of them have been indoctrinated to think that all magic was harmful and must be kept in check by templars. Morrigan certainly knew of this, and used it to her advantage. Any spell that she casted would cause chaos and panic.

She had witnessed something similar once when she was much younger. During her younger years, she had travelled, shapeshifted, along the edges of Lake Calenhad, but had always shied of reaching the Circle. One time in her morning adventures, she studied a group of templars, heading towards the Circle and escorting a very young male mage. The young boy was also accompanied by an older woman, perhaps his mother, and a knight, perhaps their guard. The knight's shield was different than that from the templars'. It bore a heraldry that consisted of mostly red bars and was symmetrical, but it did not resemble any from Ferelden, and certainly did not resemble the templars' insignia. As a spider, she had watched the group from afar and observed the events as if it were a show. It must have been twenty or thirty bandits that had spawned from the forests and surrounded the templars and the young boy. The templars, despite being trained in combat, were easily outmatched due to pure numbers. The mother of the boy was certainly no fighter herself, and the knight could barely hold ground against one or two bandits. As several templars fell from battle, the attention turned towards the young mage and his mother. Of course, all the bandits wanted were probably some silvers, but ransacking dead bodies wasn't out of the question if it came to it. The young boy, fearing for his and his mother's lives, unleashed a series of wintry blast, freezing and then shattering the nearby bandits. Being untrained in his own talents, he was quickly drained and the blue from his eyes disappeared. The remaining bandits, not wanting to face the same fate, left the group alone and returned to where they came from. The boy was then surely escorted with the utmost care by the wounded templars to the Circle, and Morrigan never saw them again.

"Are you insane?" Alistair barked at the apostate, revealing a bit of his templar nature. "You know you are only adding to our problems, right?" he continued to shout.

"You had no problem with it before. 'Tis magic is no different," Morrigan retorted. Of course, Morrigan knew why the templar-Warden was angry. He must have thought that they would attract attention from other templars and that somehow they would be in danger. _As if a few templars would be enough to take me down_, the witch thought. "Perhaps, if you are so adamant about it, mother should have left you at the tower instead."

Alistair went from a passionate, determined rage to a soft, apologetic manner. The words of the swamp witch rang with truth and authenticity. They stung his ears and Alistair started to doubt his own beliefs and his upbringing at the Chantry. _If magic was so bad, why would these apostates save his life and Zachary's life? Surely, not every mage would turn to blood magic. But what if they do? Should we punish all the mages with servitude just because of a few that may turn? Maker! I'm beginning to sound like every other apostate._ "I'm sorry." He briefly muttered, lost in his thoughts and questions.

Morrigan had long abandoned the conversation and proceeded across the bridge, leaving the Warden's apology unheard. The bandits were nowhere to be seen by now and they had left their belongings behind. The witch scavenged through the relinquished goods and found several vials of lyrium and a few poultices. She snatched them, and only them, leaving the silvers and scimitars behind—she had not given a care for them. She continued along the path, eventually reaching Lothering with the two Wardens still several hundred meters behind. She was bewildered by the overpopulation of the small village; there had to be hundreds of refugees here, possibly escaping from the blight. As she began to scan her surroundings for possible threats, she noticed a nearby Chantry with a few templars here and there. The heraldry was one not easily forgotten.

What caught her eye the most, however, was the same red, symmetrical insignia she had once known, now on a rusted shield resting against a door with an aged sign reading 'Hawke'.

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Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10: The Hawkes

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read the story. Enjoy.

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"Mother, the darkspawn will be at Lothering any day now. We better get a move on unless we want to give the Maker a visit," Garrett, the eldest of the three Hawke siblings, explained to his mother while packing their essentials including a variety of potions. The two Hawke brothers, Garrett and Carver, were at the Battle of Ostagar, but had been sent on an errand to retrieve lyrium vials from the Circle that took longer than expected. Their untimely return, but rather fortunate, had saved their lives. The view of the battlefield gave the two Hawkes enough reason to want to flee Ferelden.

"Your father had fought so much only for a life in Lothering," Leandra, the mother of the three siblings, started, "It'd be a shame if we must leave." The matriarch sometimes reminisced about the easier days. She often thought about what life would be like if she had stayed in Kirkwall with her own mother and father. She did not regret eloping with Malcolm Hawke, but one could always wonder _what if_.

"It doesn't matter what happened in the past, Mother. What's most important now is that we make it out alive." Garrett had always had a knack of persuading others, always finding the right arguments. This had often resulted in resent from his younger brother and awe from his younger sister. This time, however, his brother simply agreed as even he was not stubborn enough to stay and face darkspawn. His mother reluctantly followed suit and no longer complained, accepting the path ahead of them.

The elder Hawke left their dwelling to retrieve the worn shield he had left outside. He had also planned to stock on supplies, but the merchant had been unforgiving with his prices, especially ever since the fall of Ostagar. Garrett didn't care much for Chantry sisters, but he truly felt sorry for her as the merchant had fooled her and many others. By a stroke of luck, the unscrupulous merchant knew of the death of Cailan before the others, and had bought a plethora of goods from the townsfolk. Of course, once the news arrived and the villagers and refugees needed goods, he would then resell them at a much higher price. The sister, believing the good in people, tried furiously to persuade him, but to much failure. Garrett strolled towards the arguing pair and decided to add his voice to the sister's cause.

"How much would it be for two lyrium potions?" the Hawke asked, fully expecting an outrageous price. "Would one sovereign be enough?"

"One sovereign would be enough, yes, for one vial," the merchant smirked at the opportunity.

"How about seventy silvers for one? You don't think anyone would pay more than that for a vial?" Garrett bargained.

"I just did, didn't I?" the merchant witted. "So what is it?" he continued impatiently.

"I'll take them," a woman's force intruded. Morrigan had followed the man with the crested shield ever since she had arrived in Lothering. Although she had the ability to infer most things correctly from even the smallest detail, she could not figure out the link between the man standing in front of her and the young mage she had met when she was much younger. _Who is this man and how are they related? _

Morrigan took out two sovereigns and asked for the vials. She took the two vials and stored them in her baggage. As the merchant was about to grab the gold from her, Morrigan created an icy spell that caused the man to jerk his arm. "One sovereign for the two vials." Her eyes grew cerulean blue, contrasting from her normally amber eyes. The merchant was speechless and simply remained quiet, afraid of the sorceress standing before him.

This interaction did not help the Sister's plight, and neither Hawke's, but it did end the banter. The merchant and his gang began packing their belongings and decided to leave the village as soon as the mage had left them—Earning a few sovereigns was not worth the trouble. He had thought about seeking the templars for help, but an apostate who dared to use magic in broad daylight must have had no concern for them, let alone some stranger's life.

…

Zachary and Alistair lagged behind Morrigan in reaching Lothering. Although the Mabari provided a temporary distraction, they realized their plan was still weak, and they needed to clarify what they were going to do. "I'm wondering something," started Alistair. "Have you travelled much?" he continued.

"Yeah. I've never stayed in one place. My family was always on the move," the mage replied. "Why?"

Alistair expected the question and immediately answered, "Do you like it? I mean, I never really had a chance to travel. I spent most of my life in the Chantry, and well, now I'm here with you."

Zachary felt a sense of warmth from the last line, but didn't think much of it before he replied, "It is fine. I never knew of any other life, really, until now. Truth be told, being a Grey Warden isn't at all what I had imagined."

"You have doubts?" Alistair asked. If he did not want to sound disappointed, his eyes would have betrayed him. The young templar had often used the Chantry as an excuse for many things. His natural charm, wittiness, and sentimental nature attracted many priestess and rich women. He thought that by being in the Chantry, he was given the opportunity to avoid them. Much to his disappointment, being the forbidden fruit of the Chantry only made it worse. Alistair had avoided affection for so long that he never had time to develop feelings for anyone else. In fact, he wasn't even so sure that it was simply because he joined the Chantry that he avoided the women. Perhaps, he was just not interested. Au contraire, Zachary was a refreshing sight. With all that death in their recent past, seeing a healthy comrade, someone he is willing to die with for the Grey Wardens, gave him a sense of belonging. He had certainly wished that the new recruit would stay with him to see this through.

"No, I suppose not." The Lawson replied. Alistair gave a sigh of relief. "Whatever it is, I look forward to travel with you," Zachary finished his thought.

"You do? Well, that's new," Alistair flashed his usual playfulness once again, breaking the awkwardness. "Anyway, I only asked because we'll be travelling quite a bit to see that these treaties be met. Have you ever been to… uh… Brecilian Forest? Or the Circle?"

The mention of the Circle made Zachary uneasy and reminded him of his late mother. The more he tried to not think of the incident, the stronger the image of the abomination became. "You okay?" Alistair asked in a tender voice. He saw the sweat on the new recruit's forehead and his trembling hands. He handed him a cloth, a handkerchief.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," Zachary said as he took the cloth and wiped his brow. He gave a smile and continued, "I'll get this cleaned before I give it back. We better get to Morrigan, before she gets into trouble with templars."

"That wouldn't be so bad, would it?" Alistair joked as he nodded for the Mabari to head out first. The two Wardens shared a good chuckle, knowing that although their journey ahead would be full of gore and death, it would also be full of laughter.

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Thank you for reading, please review.


	11. Chapter 11: The Fireside Chat

A/N: Enjoy.

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"Mother!" Zachary called out as he woke from his nightmares. The young Warden had briefly forgotten where he was at, with all the flashbacks continuing to fill his thoughts. The hard, cold ground he was sleeping on was only bearable due to its proximity to the campfire. He glared into the source of light and beyond that, catching a glimpse of Morrigan in her own tent, much too far away from the rest. He recalled that they had left Lothering already, and had been joined by several others: A bard, Leliana, who had insisted that her Maker had asked her to join the plight of the Wardens; and a couple dwarves who were merchants scrambling to make a living. Alistair did not like the idea of wanderers joining their leagues—first an apostate, and now a thief. The bard turned out to be a Sister of the Chantry, which only made Alistair even more uneasy. He had thought he'd left the Chantry life behind him.

They had also met a strange man, a Qunari, who was imprisoned in a cage outside the village. The Chantry had decided that his punishment should be such for he had murdered a family of farmers. Surprising to the Lawson, the prisoner had not the slightest bit mind his fate. It had been as if he had lost his purpose in life. Zachary had felt confused and was still confused even after some long thought. He had never encountered a Qunari before, or even heard of them. The stories his mother and father had told never mentioned them in the slightest bit. Even Morrigan had little knowledge of the way of the Qun and offered little help to Zachary's understanding. What could be so devastating that the Qunari would give up wanting to live? Perhaps like himself, he had lost family?

Despite Alistair's protest, the Lawson had asked the newly acquired bard to pick the lock. Zachary had no regard for the Chantry's law, and although he did find it horrifying that a man could kill so many with his bare fists, he didn't have the heart to let him suffer at the hands of the darkspawn. Morrigan also made it a point that it would be such a waste of a warrior, and that he should join their quest to stop the Blight. This, of course, would have been too unsettling for the young man. Although Zachary freed the Qunari, he had no plans of having him join them. The Qunari simply remarked that although the cage is open, he had no plans of leaving.

"Bad dreams, huh?" Alistair asked, startling the new Warden out of his thoughts. Alistair had been sitting beside the campfire for most of the night, unable to fall asleep. He couldn't help but stare at his comrade as he rustled in his sleep.

Unwilling to talk about his family, Zachary joked, "Must've been something I ate."

"Drank more like. As in the tainted blood, remember?" started the brunet Warden as he raised one eyebrow. "You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That's what your dream was. Hearing them. The archdemon… it talks to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's why we know this is really a Blight."

Zachary took it in as is, and simply nodded in agreement. Of course he had dreams of the archdemon ever since the Joining, but this dream was really just about his family. Alistair continued, "It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the others say they can understand the archdemon, but I sure can't. Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me too…"

A short silence filled the air between the two gentlemen. It had all but crept up on Alistair that he had found comfort when talking with Zachary about all things Grey Warden—probably perhaps he was the only one that he could discuss these things with. The senior of the two Wardens enjoyed being more knowledgeable, for once. Ever since he was young, he had only lived a life where he did what he was told. Early on, he was made sure to never expose his lineage. He didn't mind it so much, but it often had led to mistreatment one way or another. Then as he grew and studied as a templar, he became an obedient servant of the Chantry. More recently, with the Grey Wardens, he was the newest member until Zachary showed up. It felt good, knowing.

"All right then. Now that you're up, let's get a move on," Alistair alas finished, breaking the awkward silence. Both men stood up, and started to pack their belongings. The others took their cue, and began packing theirs as well.

"I'm curious," Zachary looked over to Alistair as he mouthed the words.

"Ask away," Alistair, now also curious, asked.

"It didn't seem that you enjoyed the Chantry much. Why did you stay?" Zachary inquired.

Alistair coyly jested, "Have you seen the uniform? It's not only stylish, but well-made. I'm a sucker for good tailoring."

"I have not really," the junior Warden replied. "I haven't seen you wear it either. Why don't you wear one? You should if you're such a suck..e..r… for… it." The strangeness of his remarks only became apparent to him too late and his cheeks suffused with red. "What I meant was—"

Alistair, unaware of it all, simply continued, "Well, I keep it hidden under my pillow. Sometimes, I'll take it out just so I can hug it fondly and remember the good old days." He made a sound resembling a sniff, "Brings a tear to the eyes, you know?"

The two men shared a brief chuckle and Zachary played along, "So this is where you deflect questions with humour, right?"

"Well, I have a shield, but I don't think I could quite hide behind it," the templar replied. "You don't really want to know about my being a templar, do you? It's really quite boring," Alistair mouthed quietly.

"Then make up something more exciting," the mage figured. He enjoyed the talk with Alistair as it helped him keep his mind off of his family. The thought and the doing of packing hardly helped otherwise. "By the way, are you almost ready? We probably should let the others know."

"Oh, my apologies. I've been so caught up talking to you, I'll get on it," Alistair stammered nervously. The senior Warden packed the remaining treaties and looked over to his junior, "You know, I like the way you think. You're all right. If you're really curious, then I'll tell you. The truth of the matter is that I did hate going to the monastery. The initiates from poor families thought I put on airs, while the noble ones called me a bastard and ignored me. I was quite bitter about being casted off and sent there. Of course, I took some solace in the training itself; I was quite good at it. One needed a disciplined mind in order to use the abilities we have. It was difficult, but I was determined to be good at it." His face glowed a fiery red as he spoke of his past. Zachary wasn't sure if his comrade was becoming angry or excited. Alistair continued, "I never really felt at home anywhere, though, until I joined the Grey Wardens. Duncan felt my templar abilities might be useful when we encountered darkspawn magic, so I kept it up. And what about you? Do you have anywhere you considered home?"

"Like I mentioned before, I've travelled quite a bit with my family. We've never really had a home since we were always on the move. But, now that I'm here, I guess home is wherever camp is," Zachary responded. "I suppose home is with you and the Grey Wardens."

Alistair couldn't help but be sentimental with the last statement. "You know, it won't always be like this. Once the war with the Blight is over, we will move on to our own lives again. Though that seems like a far ways off," Alistair continued. Of course, all of this talk reminded him of Duncan and he'd do anything to stop these memories from flooding his head. "Anyhow, now I've side-tracked us. We'd better get back to what we're supposed to be doing right now," the Warden-templar finished.

The party of four was ready to move and had left their camp. The two Wardens marched westwards, with the two ladies close behind them. They have decided to seek help and advice from the Arl of Redcliffe, despite Morrigan's protest. The Witch had had her own plans and concerns, and going to Redcliffe would only be delaying them. And of course, delaying them, as they would soon know, would be an understatement.


	12. Chapter 12: The Taint

A/N: To celebrate the new Dragon Age game, here is another chapter. Enjoy.

* * *

The party of four had been heading towards Redcliffe for several days and nights. They had decided to make camp in the fields of Hinterlands as their fourth night of travel began to fall, catching up on some much needed rest and restoring their much depleted stamina. Zachary had suggested that they rotated night watch duties whenever they set up camp and had volunteered to start their fourth night. During these patrols, the Warden had often taken night walks along the serene lake to clear his distraught mind, of course, never straying too far from camp. It was during these walks that the brunet had found something unsettling. He had often started hearing whispers when no one was talking, seeing images of creatures that were not physically there, and feeling excessive warmth, even in the frigid night. Zachary had often wondered what it was on these late night excursions, but hadn't found an answer until this one. What was his "gift" for drinking the tainted blood was not apparent to Zachary soon enough as a group of darkspawn ambushed the inexperienced Warden.

The solo encounter had left Zachary wounded. The young man loathed his inability to master his shield defense talents, despite his father having given him training. Unable to shield himself from backstabs and flanking attacks, Zachary relied on his magically-imbued armour to mitigate damage. The young mage conjured the defensive spells rock armour to protect from successive hits and arcane shield to avoid them all together. Despite his attempts, however, his lack of mana and stamina proved to be too much. Although the Lawson was able to deflect the flurry of swords and arrows, he couldn't do the same with magic. The black cloud of smoke that the genlock emissary conjured could pierce any armor, and the Warden felt his life slipping away. A wave of sleepiness hit him and he'd thought that he would never wake again.

…

Morrigan had woke early, but decided to remain in her tent until she was called for her rotation. She uncovered a tome from her belongings, a Book of Spells that Flemeth had given her to study whenever she was not practicing her shapeshifting. "_elgar'lin… dirth… Isala na'era"_ Morrigan spoke in the Elven tongue while listening closely to the low murmurs of spirits and demons alike. Being not confined to Andrastian teachings, Morrigan had often dabbled in other schools of magic, including blood magic. She conversed occasionally with demons, studying the extent at which she could dally with them and still remain unharmed. For a brief moment, her dark arts allowed her to tap into nearby darkspawn conversation, alarming her as she realized their current plight.

"Alistair! Leliana!" Morrigan harped as she left the confinements of her tent, alerting certainly the dog and the rogue.

Leliana woke in an instant with Morrigan's shouting reminding her of her previous bard life of constant fear during her not-so-lonely nights. For the rogue, it seemed like fighting the darkspawn was somehow an easier path. At least darkspawn were always clear with their intent. Humans? Not so much. "Are we under attack?" She asked calmly. She grabbed her longbow and her quiver of fire enchanted arrows, readying herself for combat.

"If we were, would that make a difference to this Grey Warden?" Morrigan scowled as she stared over at Alistair's tent. "Even this dog knows a bit more about survival than he does." Her remark elicited a whimper from the Mabari who was smart enough to sniff out her backhanded compliment.

The Grey Warden was a deep sleeper and remained asleep, despite the witch's shriek earlier. Although his eyes were closed, he had been restless the entire night. Disturbing whispers and murmurs of darkspawn tongue had prevented the young Warden from getting a good rest even given the otherwise quiet night. Promises that he would be able to one day block the voices out had kept him going for this long, but today's was especially worse. And now, added to that, there was the most dreaded voice of all—Morrigan's.

Appalled at the templar's ignorance, the female mage channeled a spark with her fingertips, ready to send Alistair a surprise. Throughout Leliana's protest, Morrigan ensured that although she would like, in any other circumstance, to fry the young man, she regrettably admitted that the Blight's threat is probably more important at this point and that she simply would just need to wake him up.

The Grey Warden woke to the banter first, however, puzzled by the two women who normally do not speak with one another, except on that rare occasion when the Sister mentioned how nice Morrigan's frontal chest features were. "Heyyy… What's this all about?" Alistair mumbled in a whiny tone as if he was five years old again, peeking out of his tent with his eyes barely open. "I'm trying to get some sleep here… I hope you know fighting darkspawn is r-e-a-l-l-y tiring…" The man continued to yawn. "And these voices… they're getting so loud, I can't sleep properly. Could you be so kind as to give me another hour?" And with that, the man once again dozed off in his half-asleep state.

"We'll leave the dog here then, in case Alistair gets into trouble. Let's find Zachary and hope that you're wrong about the darkspawn," Leliana suggested to the mage.

"What a good idea you have there. Maybe the dog will eat him while we're away. At least that'll solve one of our troubles," Morrigan chided. With the mage's glowing fingertips extinguished, Leliana didn't argue any longer and simply finished equipping herself with their stash of poultices and potions. The two companions headed off towards the lake, from where the source of the darkspawn voices came, in search of their leader.

The walk was quiet, but the two remain vigilant. The threat of corruption was always in the back of their minds; one simple slip and that was it for them. The only cure, of course, was to become a Grey Warden, but it seemed unlikely that they would become one since Alistair mentioned that neither of the two Wardens knew enough about some Joining ritual.

"I'm curious, Morrigan," Leliana broke the silence, "How do you know there are darkspawn nearby?"

"How do you think?" the Witch retorted with a question.

"The Maker showed me a vision before, and I thought—," Leliana continued, only to be cut off by her sharp-tongued comrade.

"I'm sure your Maker has all the time in Thedas to provide us with visions with which you can find your so-called destiny," Morrigan continued, sarcastically, waving her hands as usual when frustrated. "But no. I was simply studying magic and I heard them," she finally answered. Having lived in the Wilds all her life, Morrigan had never been acquainted with people for long. Many come and go, but she had never had to get used to the fact that she must converse with someone she finds so disagreeable, let alone travel with them. The need for survival had shaped her entire world view and she could not seem to grasp the need for anyone to follow Andrastian laws. Yet, standing in front of her as her only companion now, was a woman who had decided that she would give her entire life to the Chantry. _How far she has come to be talking with this woman_, Morrigan thought.

After a brief pause, Leliana continued, pressingly, "I see… Do you not think that the gift of magic was the Maker's way of giving you a vision?"

"I will not have this conversation any longer. You are better off talking with Alistair back at camp if you wish to discuss your Maker," the Witch of the Wilds replied, again, throwing her hands in the air.

Despite Leliana's insistence, the conversation was indeed cut short, when a cloud of black smoke began to fill the air around them. The rogue immediately went into stealth, hoping to escape, but was unable to breathe as the toxic air filled her lungs. The bard kneeled on the floor, coughing the smoke out, and reluctantly broke her own stealth. She saw a bluish-white light, through the mist and the smoke, and reached out with her hand, dropping her bow before she passed out, thinking that she had seen the Maker coming to save her.

Morrigan channeled a lightning spell with her staff and struck the genlock emissary responsible for the spell. The darkspawn dropped motionless, but the blackness still surrounded her. Unable to see any farther than a few inches, Morrigan decided to sacrifice the rest of her mana with a glyph of neutralization, becoming immune to all spells and dissipating the smoke, but unable to cast any either. She shapeshifted herself into a spider, and remained on her glyph, fending off any approaching hurlocks and genlocks.

The entire ordeal left the Witch fatigued, but the last of the darkspawn had now fled, seeing that their leader was slain. The rest of the cloud thinned out, and the rush of cold Hinterlands air refilled the two women's lungs. Lying not far from the Witch was Zachary, whose initial breathing was erratic, but soon stabilized. Morrigan sensed remnants of magic on both the shield and armour and noted to herself that Zachary had recently tapped into his own pool of mana. She walked over to the Warden, hoping to wake the man, but to no avail. With her mana drained and two unconscious allies, the mage was out of options.

…

Alistair woke up with beads of sweat running down the side of his face despite the chilly night. He took his cleaned handkerchief out, which he had recently lent Zachary, and wiped his forehead. He sat up with one knee arced, resting his arm on it as he recalled his vivid dream. He had dreamt of the archdemon swiping his fellow Warden with its large talons, ripping the man apart. Horrified, Alistair was only able to witness, and could not defend his comrade. The attack had left Zachary nearly lifeless on the floor, clearly bleeding to death. As he kneeled down at the bruised and torn body, he took Zachary's reaching hand into his. He noticed the young man's mouth moving and he bent further down to listen. As words of passion were being whispered into his ear, the archdemon bellowed and the two men were blown away. It was at this point that Alistair awoke.

Unable to make sense of his dream, Alistair left his tent and sat near the campfire that was still brightly ablaze. He stared into the flames, listening to the crackles that it occasionally made. He scrambled through his memories, looking for anything that could put two and two together. The appearance of the archdemon in his dreams signalled the existence of an actual Blight. While many did not believe Duncan, Alistair was finally able to understand his worries. He recalled the talk with Duncan they had soon after his own Joining about restless nights, "_Grey Wardens can subconsciously communicate with one another through dreams—the taint gives us that power. Although it is harder to master for us, mages can easily do so when they augment it with magic." _A flood of new thoughts entered Alistair's mind. _Is he in danger? Are darkspawn nearby? What… did he mean… when he whispered those words?_ The Warden was so enthralled in his own thoughts that he had not realized that nobody else was at camp, of course, until the Mabari started barking.

…

No one talked about that night again as nobody other than Morrigan knew what happened. Leliana insisted that the Maker showed itself to save them, but neither of the Wardens was unconvinced. How did Morrigan bring back both Leliana and Zachary on her own? Did Zachary really communicate with Alistair in his dreams? What was he saying?


	13. Chapter 13: The Fade

A/N: Remember that this is rated M... Enjoy ;)

* * *

The recovery had been tremendously slow for Zachary. He had resided in his own tent for several days and nights, inevitably delaying the party's already long journey to Redcliffe Castle. The death magic from the darkspawn fight several moons ago had seeped deep into his veins, mixing with his already tainted fluids. Had this occurred to a non-mage, the magic would surely be lethal. Fortunately, the once lyrium-filled veins of Zachary provided the man some natural resistance, saving his life but also resulting in consistent high fevers, sore muscles, shallow breaths, and multiple hallucinations.

Morrigan had taken care of the Grey Warden during the entire ordeal, using what little healing magic she knew. If what were needed were simply mending bones and closing wounds, the Witch would not have been so challenged. Her herbalism skills allowed her to handle the soaring fevers with elfroots, but she was lacking a key ingredient—Embrium. She had read occasionally a few excerpts of The Botanical Compendium at the behest of her mother. From these, she recalled that Embrium leaves were used to cure diseases of the lungs. However, what she had to do with the flower was unknown to her. She sat near the Warden, occupying herself with lowering the fever and remembering what was needed to be done.

"Morrigan, how is he?" Alistair asked as he entered the tent. The senior of the two Wardens was stricken by his failure to sense darkspawn, which had thus led to Zachary falling ill. He looked over to the pale man lying on the ground, almost completely stripped of his clothes to help combat the fever. He noticed how his comrade seemed to devoid of any sign of life other than the shallow breaths that he took, and thoughts of _what ifs_ filled his mind. His heart sank as he scanned the bruised on the young man, and unable to withstand anymore, he left without waiting for the Witch to answer.

Leliana waited outside, hoping to comfort the Warden-templar. She empathized with Alistair, and even having only known the man for a short time, she knew the man wore his heart on his sleeve. She understood what the man needed, and perhaps she could help distract him. The bard brought the Mabari with her to him, knowing that the charming young man found solace when spending time with it. "Alistair," Leliana started, "When tragedies strike, we try to find something to blame." She continued, "And in the absence of a suitable candidate… we usually blame ourselves. You are not to blame. No one is to blame, Alistair."

"Thanks, Leliana." The Warden said wholeheartedly, while, of course, being distracted by the Mabari. The incessant petting and ruffling eventually wore the dog out, and the Mabari left the two alone to chat. "But you know; it is my fault. I am to blame. If only I had—,"

"Alistair…" The rogue slowly slinked up to the man, approaching so close that the Warden could feel her breathing on his skin. She stood in front of the man, ambushing the man's torso with her arms and softly brushed her lips against his ears.

"Uhh… Umm…" The Warden panicked. "I'm not… I mean you are… I mean… I'm a templar, you see… Chantry, yes. Chantry," the man continued to fumble his words while his cheeks were filled with blood. He pushed the bard away and folded his arms, holding on to his personal space. He looked away, hoping to find something else to catch his attention.

The bard chuckled, "Well, I got you to think of something else, did I not?" The rogue simply left Alistair, who was now flushed and distracted. Initially, she thought it was odd that the handsome and rugged man had no woman in his life. Perhaps even Alistair was not fully aware of his own feelings, but after that, Leliana was certain she would make no progress with this Warden.

Left alone once again, thoughts of Zachary refilled Alistair's mind. Exhausted from the recent events, he decided to leave camp to clear his head. Perhaps he could find a few more elfroots for Zack, he thought. The Mabari volunteered its time and tagged along with the Warden, despite its previous distaste for affection. Alistair's mind started to wander aimlessly, and then began to prepare itself for the worst—_What if Zachary returns to the Maker? _He thought about his past responsibility as a templar, how he had abandoned them once he decided he wasn't ready. And now, as a Warden, will he do the same to them?

The Warden continued to walk along Lake Calenhad, focusing his mind on every detail there was. He stared at the distant cliffs that separated them from Redcliffe, and the orange sky behind them. He noticed the variety of vegetation, and thought that it would be a shame for the Blight to take this place as it did the Wilds. He looked back and noticed the dirt roads that he had been walking on, revealing footprints of different sizes—No doubt some human, the Mabari, and recently a bear. And then an epiphany hit him. Of course! He thought. The mages at the Circle Tower would have to help. Although he wasn't in the Templar Order, he was a Grey Warden, and the treaties demand their help. Zachary would be saved.

Alistair retraced his steps and noticed, curiously, that the large bear footprints suddenly disappeared, and several smaller prints replaced them as he headed towards the camp. He paid them not much attention, however, as he was excited to share his plan with the party. He entered the camp, and headed towards Zachary's tent, expecting Morrigan to be there.

"Morri-," Alistair began, but stopped as he observed her absence. His enthusiasm to share his plan diffused into sorrow when he was reminded again of his fellow Warden's state. Alistair kneeled down and examined the wounds and bruises with his calloused hands, feeling the tenderness and irradiating heat. The movement of the senior Warden elicited a groan from the pallid man and Alistair withdrew his hands quickly. "Hello there. How are you feeling, Zack?" Alistair said, trying to take both their minds off their present situation.

"Brother? Is it really you?" Zachary replied in his delusional state. He took Alistair's hands in his own, and held them close to his heart. Although coughing and wheezing, the ghastly man still gripped them tightly, finding comfort in someone else's hands. "Don't leave me again… Please," Zachary pleaded as he remembered how his brother had vanished suddenly one day, and how he used to take care of him when they were much younger.

Alistair knew better than to leave a dying man alone and sat there with his hands in Zachary's. At first, he thought he was calling him a Brother, as in, from the Order. But he had never left him, had he? Perhaps he did let him down several nights ago, but nonetheless, Alistair assumed he was talking about family. He realized how selfish he had been, always voicing his own distresses but never listening to his comrade's. _It'll change. _He continued to stare at Zachary's form and noticed that the paleness of the skin revealed the veins that coursed through the man's body. They were notably bluer than Alistair had expected, but his curiosity would have to be satisfied another day. He sat silently for what must have been hours in the night, occasionally staring out the tent and into the campfire. _You will get better. Let's go to the Circle. _The Warden thought.

He quickly retracted his hands from the other Warden's when the leaves outside began to ruffle. Leliana entered the tent and offered to relieve Alistair of his duties watching over the sick man. "Get some sleep, Alistair. You don't want to be the one who is sick when he wakes up, no? I mean, what if he wants your hand again?" She teased the templar who then pretended not to hear, only to be betrayed by his own rosy face.

"We should go to the Circle," Alistair said, completely ignoring her remarks, "They'll know what to do." He finally looked up, waiting for a response from the bard.

"That's a good idea. Morrigan's not going to like it, however," Leliana added.

"All the more reason to go," the templar replied, smirking for the first time since this ordeal. The two shared a brief laugh, and Alistair finished his thoughts, "We'll have to tell her in the morning then if we want some sleep."

"We don't really have much of a choice. She's been drained from taking care of our leader. She's probably sleeping by now," Leliana pointed out, noting the extinguished campfire near Morrigan's tent.

"Got it." Alistair said as he left Zachary's tent and headed for his own. He gazed into the campfire once again, recalling the dream he had many nights ago. He took his kerchief out, reminded once again that he had shared it with Zachary. Although not one to pray often, Alistair kneeled with one knee, arching the other, and held the kerchief between his two hands, bowing down and praying for the man's health. When he was done, he placed it under his makeshift pillow, and began to drift into the Fade.

…

_A womanly figure stood a good distant from Zachary. He tried focusing his attention to nearby objects, but things were hazy and elusive. This was an oddly familiar environment, the Warden thought. Although still weak, his willpower was strong enough for him to traverse his immediate surroundings. He quickly recalled the dream he had had in the Wilds and suddenly, all of this became lucid. He strolled slowly towards the figure and recognized its owner._

"_Morrigan…? Why is she here?" Zachary asked himself. As he neared himself to her, he noticed that she wasn't alone. She was conversing with a demon—the same demon that Zachary had once encountered. "Morrigan?" The Warden asked._

_The Witch, surprised, turned around and faced the Warden. "'Tis a desi-," She started, and although her mouth continued to move to form words, Morrigan wasn't able to voice them._

_Despite Zachary's attempt to focus, he began going in and out of his dream as if one was losing consciousness again and again. When he was able to recollect his thoughts, Morrigan had seemingly disappeared and Alistair stood in front of him instead, armourless. "Alistair?" Zachary asked, puzzled at his sudden appearance. _

"_Zack, are you feeling alright now? I was worried about you," The senior Warden said. Alistair pulled Zachary's hands into a caressing grip, and oddly, his hand was extremely smooth. "Your hands aren't blazing hot anymore; I'm glad," Alistair continued, giving him a heartfelt smile. The templar-Warden closed the distance between them and wrapped his comrade in his arms. "There, all better," he finally says._

_Zachary was dumbstruck at Alistair's approach. Initially, he wanted to push the man away, unable to make sense of the man's sudden boldness. The warmth felt so good, however, and he wanted to remain in his arms forever. It seemed awkward at first, realizing that he was now completely naked in Alistair's embrace, but it didn't seem to bother either of them. He rested his head against the other man's neck, inhaling the strong outdoor scent of the man. For this moment, Alistair seemed to be everything he desired—The sight, the smell, the touch. _

_The templar-Warden took initiative and carried the naked man in his arms to the nearby bed. He planted passionate kisses on his lover's smooth body, and pinned Zachary's hands against the sheets with his own. His tongue traced down and up the mage's body and eventually landed on his lips. The invasion of Zachary's mouth elicited a muffled moan from the man which had only invited the templar to continue on. _

_Zachary had never felt anything like this before. Sure, he had occasionally pleasured himself before, but this had played to his every heart's desire. It felt strange having Alistair explore every inch of his body with such ease; wasn't he technically a virgin? How does he know to do this so well? His thoughts were interrupted as templar took the mage's entire length in his mouth and his doubts faded to content._

_Alistair's moved up and down the shaft, coordinating the movement of his hand that was gripped ever so loosely on Zachary's member. The junior Warden closed his eyes, savoring every moment and arched his back, thrusting into his newfound lover's mouth and matching Alistair's rhythm with his own. He stroked Alistair's soft brown hair as he continually moaned his name to the bliss he was in. "Alistair… I'm gonna-!" The junior Warden grunted, holding his breath as he felt his release in his senior's oral crevice. _

_Zachary suddenly felt weak and started panting for air to refill his empty lungs. Although he was not content with leaving Alistair unfulfilled, he was too tired to give notice. He looked over to where Alistair was, before he closed his eyes, but he was no longer there. The familiarity that he once had of his surroundings became oddly deceptive. He was incapable of discerning reality from imagination._

_Wait… Where am I? Is this the Fade?_


End file.
